Cruise Control
by cartoonsforlife1314
Summary: Mabel's ecstatic. She's gotten her driver's permit...before her brother. "Has the world truly come to a point where MABEL can cruise the road and I can't?"
1. YAHOOEY!

"DIPDIPDIPDIPDIPDIPDIPDIPDIP!"

I've gotten use to this statement.

I'm promptly tackled onto the couch. My sister is on top of me, her hair dangling in my face.

"Guess what I got?" she asks me. She doesn't give me time to respond before she says "My DRIVER'S PERMIT! I can drive everywhere and anywhere I wanna go now-with an adult. YAHOOEY!"

"That's awesome, Mabel!" I say. My enthusiastic sister bounces into the kitchen to tell our parents and I'm struck with the harsh reality that I don't have mine.

Three tries, it took me. Three tries, and I didn't pass one of them. 'You're too paranoid.' 'You drive like my grandma.' 'You need to go the speed limit and not 20 miles under it.'

The teacher HATED me. I swear. And now, I can't retake mine for six months while my SISTER, of all people, can drive.

Has the world truly come to a point where MABEL can cruise the road and I can't?


	2. Dipper's First Test

"Come on, kid, you drive like my grandma." the woman in the seat next to me says. She's obnoxiously chewing her gum with her mouth OPEN. It's disgusting.

I put my foot on the gas pedal and push and when I feel the car speed up I push the brakes. It's a sudden jolt but it did just manage to potentially save my life.

'Kaylee' the instructor still chews her gum and marks something down on her paper. How on EARTH did this woman get hired here? "Kid, it's not going to kill ya to go faster than seven miles an hour." she says.

It really might. Kaylee has no regard for safety whatsoever. "Is that goofy hat blockin' your line of sight?" she asks, taking my hat off.

Great way to help me focus.

"You're nervous, arent'cha?" she asks me, still chewing her gum. I swear that in that sentence at LEAST half of it flew in my ear.

"Yes, I am." I say, gritting my teeth.

"Well, quit it. You're a fifteen-year-old guy. You're too paranoid of what's gonna happen to you. Now let's actually go the SPEED LIMIT, shall we?" she says, reaching over and honking the horn.

"Move your #^% $* SMART GUY!" she screams at the guy in front of us.

I pushed on the gas pedal and was appalled at how fast this car sped up. I instantly pressed the brakes and she kind of whacked me on the back of the head.

"WHAT'RE YOU DOING?" she asked me. "You gotta have the speed to take the lead! C'mon, we're so gonna beat all the other kids taking this test today!"

She put me in a RACE?

"MOVE, !#Y*&%*&%#^ *!" she screams at the guy in front of us again. This time she's rolled her window down.

What'd ya know, it's a police officer.

"Turn, kid, turn!" she screams, turning the wheel for me. She tells me to never pull over for these guys, they're just bad news.

"Am I driving a stolen car?" I ask, freaking out. She avoids my question.

The siren begins to sound behind me. She starts honking the horn and tells me to speed it up back to the DMV.

I swear that by the time I made it back the horn had run out. And there was still a police officer behind me…lovely.

"License and registration." he asks me when I park the car in the parking lot.

"I'm a student." I say, and Kaylee is snoring.

"This your instructor?" he asks.

"Sadly, yes." I say, getting out of the car.

"You can leave. It's her that's the problem." the officer says. I grab my bike and ride home.


	3. Dipper's Second Test

I try to retake it the next week, because I figured, "Oh, how could this get any worse?"

I was wrong. It could.

My instructor was a larger guy with a MASSIVE bowl of nachos. The gross, artificial cheesy kind.

"How'ya doin'?" he asks me.

"Good…" I say. He slaps me on the back.

"AWESOME! Well, I'm BERT, and this here bowl of happiness is my wife, Lisa!" he says, roaring.

I start leaning away from him.

"I'm kiddin' kiddo!"he says, whacking me again. I swear now there's nacho cheese all over my shirt. "My wife and kids're at home!"

"Great…" I say, not really sure how to respond.

"So let's get a'drivin, shall we?!" he yells. Could he be any louder?

"HEY MAURICE! GIVE THE BOY HERE SOME SNACKS FOR THE WAY!" he screams.

"No thanks, I'm good!" I tell Maurice, but it's too late. He's brought a pile of candy bars and chips for Bert.

"Allllrighty, let's get on the ROOOOOOOOOOOAD!" Bert says.

It goes pretty well until Bert runs out of snacks. "Boy, let's go get me some Missouri Fried Chicken!" he says.

"Some what?" I ask. Missouri Fried Chicken…is that even a thing?

"MISSORUI FRIED CHICKEN!" he says. "DON'TCHA HAVE THAT, CITY BOY?"

"You mean KENTUCKY Fried Chicken?" I ask him.

"NO, I need me some MISSOURI FRIED CHICKEN!" he says. "Get a'drivin!"

I type in 'Missouri Fried Chicken' on the GPS, which instantly says there are no matches.

"Man, I don't know if I can get you some Missouri Fried Chicken." I tell him.

"WELL GO TO MISSOURI!" he says.

"Let me get this straight: you want me to drive from CALIFORNIA to MISSOURI to get you CHICKEN?" I ask. I'm a little bit peeved at this guy.

"I WANT ME SOME MISSOURI FRIED CHICKEN, BOY, AND I AIN'T LETTIN YOU PASS THIS TEST TILL I GOT SOME IN MY MOUTH!" he screamed. Dear GOD, this guy can scream louder than Mabel with a pimple.

I turned around the car and pulled into a Kentucky Fried Chicken restaurant.

"There! Have your stupid fried chicken!" I said, and it was only a few miles from the DMV so I just turned around and walked there. I was not going to let some stupid guy scream at me because he wanted CHICKEN.


End file.
